


Limon

by viklikesfic (v_angelique)



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-12
Updated: 2007-12-12
Packaged: 2017-10-05 17:46:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/44388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/v_angelique/pseuds/viklikesfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dom and Elijah engage in a little...recreation.  With baking!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Limon

**Author's Note:**

> Wtf? Did I really never post this? Oops. Um, yeah, I wrote it this summer one night after making lemon squares. Though I was not, and never have been, in the state described, I thought it might make the experience more interesting.

"Let's make lemon squares."

"You are so stoned."

"So're you, dude. What's your point?"

"Toked. Out of your head."

"The lemon squares won't wait forever, you know."

"What, will they go marching off with the sugar plum faeries into Toyland to have mad sex and never be seen from again?"

Elijah snorted and pulled Dom up by one wrist, which felt oddly disjointed from the rest of his arm as they floated down the hallway and towards the kitchen. "What have you, gone off on a fabulous trip to Candy Land?"

"I _told_ you," Dom insisted with a serious frown of consternation, "we don't _have_ that game in England." It took another minute before he burst into giggles, pressing his hands against his face when Elijah flicked a switch and harsh high-wattage light flooded the room. "Trip! I just got it. Except we're not tripping. Cause tripping is bad, 'Lijah. Remember?"

Elijah nodded solemnly as he rooted around the cabinets for flour and powdered sugar. "I know, Dom. I promise. No more."

"Yeah, mate, you'd better not. LSD is for losers who were born at _least_ twenty years before your parents even had sex for the first time."

"Oh, _eww_!" Elijah shrieked, sounding eerily like his younger sister.

"Can I help?" Dom asked when Elijah started trying to scoop the Country Crock out of its giant pale brown tub. The measuring cup was a bright, almost fluorescent pink, and for some reason Dom found this highly amusing. Elijah's tongue was poking out of the corner of his mouth in concentration, and Dom stepped up behind him and rested his chin on Elijah's shoulder. Dom wasn't wearing a shirt, and he couldn't remember why anymore, but it didn't matter because Elijah's hoodie was soft and warm against his chest.

"Measure the sugar if you want."

"Okay," Dom agreed, his voice becoming low and husky and completely incongruous with what they were doing. "How much?"

"Quarter of a cup," Elijah replied with a little hitch in his breath that Dom found inordinately sexy.

"Remember the last time we got stoned, Elijah?" he murmured, his lips near Elijah's ear as he somehow managed to pour from the little plastic bag of powdered sugar with the corner cut off without spilling. The little shudder Dom could feel, the shudder that made Elijah's shoulder blades shake against his hardening nipples, told him that Elijah remembered indeed.

"A cup of flour," he said instead, and Dom measured dutifully, his forearms held tight to Elijah's sides. Elijah stood stock-still as Dom moved, and of course he remembered exactly how sensitive Elijah's sides were, how he had shuddered and sighed the last time Dom had found this particular weakness with his fingertips as Dom's lips had brushed over Elijah's butterfly soft, inhaling the sweet smoke.

Dom watched, almost in a trance, as Elijah moved the fork through the mixture rhythmically, the dry ingredients adhering to the soft margarine until little lumps began to form, and then crumbles. He tilted his head so that his open mouth pressed to Elijah's neck, conformed to its curve, but he didn't move. He listened to the rhythm of Elijah's breath, and remembered the time the pastry chef had called in sick and he'd had to fill in, how the manager had stormed through the kitchen and yelled at him for spilling flour.

"Oven," Elijah announced, and it took Dom a moment before he realised he had to move. He stepped back and let Elijah flick the dial to preheat, then lifted the ball of dough into his own hands and pressed it into the pan Elijah provided, pressing with his fingertips and his knuckles until the dough spread out to the proper consistency for a crust. Almost choked on an inhalation when Elijah stood behind him and pressed his own lips to _Dom's_ neck, this time definitely moving.

Elijah's teeth scraped the tendon and he whimpered, not even embarrassed because all he could think of was _more_ and _Elijah_ and _now_. He'd gotten over his initial round of the munchies and now he was just horny. He'd heard something once about how marijuana was supposed to make it so you couldn't get it up, but the theory was falling flat as asphalt now, his dick rising to the occasion in his jeans as Elijah spent much too much time on the skin beneath his earlobe.

"_Oh_," he gasp-moaned. "Shouldn't we… the filling…"

Elijah giggled and squeezed Dom's hips hard, just above the waist of his jeans. Dom had forgotten how fucking innocent Elijah sounded when he let out those little stoner-giggles, and Dom felt dirty for thinking it. His prick rose just a little bit more.

"The filling, then," Elijah agreed with another giggle, and Dom cursed his mouth.

"Right. What do we need?"

"Get a lemon," Elijah replied, measuring out a cup of sugar and a little bit of salt and baking powder while Dom rooted around in the vegetable drawer.

"Ah ha!" he exclaimed triumphantly, holding one up. "Anything else while I'm here?"

"Couple of eggs."

Precariously, Dom balanced the eggs and the lemon until Elijah took the former away and cracked them into the bowl. Dom found himself fascinated by the way egg dripped from Elijah's fingers and he distracted himself for a moment with the grater, furiously scrubbing the lemon against the corrugated metal to work out some of his arousal.

"Now two tablespoons of the juice, and then we beat," Elijah directed, rooting around in the cabinets underneath the island for the electric mixer. Dom tried to be coy about watching the way Elijah's jeans stretched over his arse, and nearly squirted the lemon juice in his own eye.

"Ah!"

Elijah straightened up suddenly and burst into another round of giggles when he saw Dom hurriedly wiping at the skin between his eyebrow and his hairline.

"Nice aim there, champ," Elijah teased, setting the mixer on the counter and leaning in to lick the juice away with a slow vertical swipe of his tongue. Dom stared at him for a long moment, and then went back to juicing the lemon.

While Elijah beat the mixture, Dom leant back against the opposite counter and watched. When he was sure Elijah wasn't looking, he pressed his palm hard and flat against his crotch. He let out a barely-there moan, swallowed by the loud electric hum of the mixer. The smell of lemons began to tinge the air, and Dom's hand started moving up and down, rhythmically, his fingers curling to grasp the erection now laying against his thigh. He couldn't decide whether to curse or bless the fact that he had forgotten to wear pants today. Elijah cut the mixer off and turned, and Dom's hand stayed where it was.

"Oh," Elijah said with an upward curl of his lips, a slow realisation. He smiled wider and walked to the cabinet, pulling out two shot glasses and a clear bottle. Dom just stared, confused, until Elijah's eyes crinkled around the edges as he passed Dom his glass.

"Bacardi?"

"Limon," Elijah confirmed, and Dom grinned, tossing his shot back. Elijah kept his upright between thumb and forefinger, and before Dom could lower his head again, was pouring the shot over the arch of Dom's neck, immediately following the quick trail of liquid down, down…

Elijah's tongue flicked into his navel and Dom groaned, clenching his hands hard in his own hair. A bit of the alcohol travelled lower, and as Elijah's hands went for the button of his jeans, Dom grinned with relief.


End file.
